Quiet Chimes in Quincy
by RinnySega
Summary: Mike Schmidt wasn't ready to spend his first summer out of high school back in the quiet town of Quincy, especially now that he has to juggle taking care of a sick aunt while having a part time job. But when memories come flooding back of his childhood summers, Mike has to face his deepest fears and horrid regrets as nighttime security for a place he thought he'd never see again.


It had been hours since a single car passed the small gathering of vultures standing round the shoulder of Highway 27. Only when an old Station Wagon passed around the bend did they look up from their meal of a dead armadillo, but not so much as a flap of a wing from any of them as it whipped past them on its way toward Quincy.

Mike Schmidt, alone with his thoughts with headphones between his ears, stared at them in the side mirror of the passenger side window as they disappeared onto the horizon left behind in the dust. As if on cue, the batteries of his Walkman died, and cut him off from his mix tape he made especially for the trip. Annoyed, he pulled them down around his neck and sat up straight for the rest of the ride.

The year was 1995, and it was an important summer that year for the teenager. After a redeye flight from Boston to Tallahassee, Mike was all ready to reach his destination and unpack for what was bound to be one of the last few months he'd ever spend down here in the Bible belt. Time was ticking for what lay for him here.

His Aunt Margaret was doing worse according to the letters and phone calls he'd read from and listened in on, and his Uncle Horace already had one foot in the same boat as her. Currently, Horace sat in the driver's seat of the station wagon, a cigarette hanging from the stubble masked lip of his mouth, as he glanced over to his nephew in the rearview mirror.

They just passed over a bridge to Gadsden County when he smirked at the teen wrapping the cords around the player.

"Finally die on you?" he asked.

"Yep," he responded. "Brought backups, but they're in the trunk with my stuff."

"Still too early to hold up a conversation?"

"Nah, you go ahead. Don't know if I'll talk much though right now."

"Well in case your Mama didn't say so, we're sorry we had to miss the graduation." He scanned over to him once in a while, but mostly kept his eyes on the road. "But you know how things are going right now with us."

Horace's deep, southern accent was a trademark of Mike's mother's side of the family, but unfortunately it was one Mike himself didn't share. He had his father to thank for that, and every waking moment he spent with him while his mother worked long shifts at the hospital.

"Didn't miss much," the boy replied. "I kind of wished they put it off another week though. Had to spend my whole birthday in that stupid robe."

"So how's it feel to be eighteen now?"

"Not bad. Get to vote and buy you cigarettes. But doesn't that mean I can drink now by Southern standards?" He cracked a smile and looked over at his uncle.

The man gave a light chuckle at that as he kept a steady pace on the bend.

"Please, son. Like that stopped you from taking sips of my beer anytime you came down as a kid?"

"Yeah, that's true."

"You know your cousin Samuel had a boy a few years ago and he got caught taking one of his dad's cans to school in his lunchbox. Took some smooth talking, but he could've gone to jail for that one."

"You guys get away with anything down here. Remember those fireworks we used to set off when we came down here? Weren't they illegal?"

"Shoot, anything's legal if you got two hands to work something a brain to talk yourself out of trouble."

Mike stared back out the window as the morning sun was coming up over the trees. "Guess that's why you guys never got in trouble for me running wild every summer."

Horace grunted as he got to work manually rolling down the window of the car, speaking between those grunts.

"I'm sorry that being down here won't be like it used to when you were a kid," he sighed out, tapping the cigarette ash out the open window. "Cause when I'm at work, you're gonna have to watch your aunt for me."

"When do you work?"

"All day every day," he joked. "Things are tight right now, so I'm working two day jobs and Samuel's got his own family to take care of over in Bainbridge."

"Oh," Mike's voice fell as he sat up in his seat, hunched over with the seatbelt giving way to his slack, "but Mom told me I had to get a job down here since things were tight for you guys, but I don't know how I'm gonna do that if you want me at the house all day."

"Don't worry, there's always work around here. There's some part-time night shifts I read about in the paper, but I couldn't take 'em cause I had to be home with her. Night's are when her stomach gets the worst."

"I'm sorry about that."

"It's alright, not your fault. But first things first when we get home and get you settled in the guest room, I'll go down to the store and pick you a paper so you can start lookin' through some of 'em. That sound good to you? Puttin' that diploma to use?" He bellowed out a laugh at his own joke.

Mike nodded with a smile and rested back against the seat, the smile vanishing as he worried over his first summer as an adult now having to be spent in his old childhood prison.

They didn't make it to their home on the outskirts of town until later that morning, but only after they hit a squirrel that dashed into the road and left it for dead for the circling birds.


End file.
